


i got a question for ya; can i get an answer?

by imdeansgirl



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Episode: s02e13 Cyrus' Bash-Mitzvah!, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 11:45:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16680997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdeansgirl/pseuds/imdeansgirl
Summary: At the end of his Bar Mitzvah, Cyrus still has a few questions.





	i got a question for ya; can i get an answer?

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this was??? i watched cyrus' bash-mitzvah! and this came to me? just to set up a little bit more plot for our canon kings tyrus. anyway come visit me at my blog [@farklelucas](http://farklelucas.tumblr.com) and chat with me about disney shows.

It's dark and windy out now, the sun finally having set on the most important event of the year. Dozens of people bustle around, taking down lights and posters and signs. The photobooth is being wheeled away, the karaoke machine is being loaded back onto the rental truck. Only one piece of Cyrus Goodman's bar mitzvah remains untouched.

He eyes the intimidating spectacle with unease, watching as the wind rustles the open tent flaps and nearly tops over the advertising sign out front. He'd just been in there a few hours ago, with Buffy and Andi. Why did he feel so nervous to go back in all the sudden? Was it because they left? Or was it because the question he had to ask was suddenly… different?

He takes a deep breath, then pushes forward to the opening of the tent.

The psychic is bent over a cabinet that sat behind her. “We’re closed,” she calls out, before Cyrus can say anything. Her accent is just as thick as it was an hour or two ago, so he guesses that wasn't a part of the act. “And yes, I know, it is _your_  bar mitzvah.”

She stands up straight and turns, giving him an incredibly unimpressed look as she saunters over to her table. He swallows thickly, his nerves tightening in his stomach as she regards him. “Okay,” he whispers, barely loud enough for either of them to hear. “Sorry to bother you.” Tears brim behind his eyes, but he wills them away because he cannot cry in front of this stranger, who's probably a hack and won't have the answers he's looking for anyway. But he can't stop thinking about coming out to Andi today, and he's in desperate need of some answers, _any_ answers.

After a few moments, her face softens, and she almost looks sorry for him. _Great,_ he thinks, _I'm so glad that I'm worth the pity of a modern day false prophet._ “You are lost,” she notes, and he nods. She makes a sweeping gesture to the chair across from her, and he meekly but hurriedly takes the invitation as a chance to sit.

There's a long pause as neither says anything, and then he says, “I have a few questions.”

She nods, her frown curling down in pity across her painted lips just like it had for Buffy earlier. “I know,” she says. “And they're not about your friend who’s moving away, no?”

Slowly and quietly, he shakes his head. “No,” he says softly. “They're not.” He sighs, taking a moment to collect his thoughts, then says, “Can I have a few of the paper things?”

She nods, and hands him what she'd pulled out of the cabinet--three red little cards, all awaiting for his questions. He doesn't even know how many questions he has, so… he hopes he gets it out in three.

The first question he scribbles down is probably the most painful. He _has_ to know the truth, no matter how much it hurts. After a moment, he holds it over his heart, open to whatever answer he gets--he hopes.

The psychic raises a hand to her head, closing her eyes. After a moment, though, she lets out a long sigh, her eyes opening only for her to look at him sadly. “No,” she whispers. “Of course not. They could never.”

He drops the card on the table. _Do Buffy and Andi hate me now?_ “I hoped so,” he replies, sniffling. He feels a tear roll down his cheek, not of his own accord, and finally, the dam breaks. His tears are falling freely now, even if he makes sure to maintain his image of _not_ being a snivelling mess. It's not that he thinks that they could hate him--it's more that he thinks what he's done is sort of unforgivable. Crushing on a friend's boyfriend? Especially when he's been so rude to her lately? He didn't write the rules, but he's pretty sure that goes against the Good Hair Crew's code of friendship. Not to mention… a boy liking another boy? People have hated people for less. “I'm so sorry,” he mutters, reaching up to flick the tears away.

She reaches across the table to put her hand on top of his. It's much tougher and more leathery than he thought it would be. “Ask your next question, my child,” she encourages. “I sense that is not all.”

He shakes his head. Before writing his next card, he sighs, his tears drying on his face slowly but surely. _This_ answer he thinks he already knows. He quickly writes his question on the paper, then moves it onto his chest.

She raises her hand to her head and, just as quickly as the last time but, this time far more brash, she says, “Yes. Sooner than you would think.”

He frowns. “What,” he asks, “now?”

Just as quickly as she’d closed them, the psychic opens her eyes and gives him a wicked smile. “Not the answer you were thinking, yah?”

He laughs, breathlessly, and nods. “Yah,” he replies, then shakes himself. “I mean, no. Not at all. I was… expecting a ‘no.’” He pauses, then adds, “It's, uh, hard. For boys like me.”

She chuckles, watching as he drops the card on the table. _Will I ever find love?_ “Cyrus, Cyrus, Cyrus,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “You are smart boy. But also, kind of dumb.” He's taken aback, his eyes widening at her comment, and she gives a sharp and outright laugh. His tears are completely forgotten about by now, his ducts having completely dried out. His eyes are a bit busy taking in the woman before him, who continues chuckling. “Cyrus, do you want to know what I see when I look into your future?”

There's a pause in which Cyrus is just completely flabbergasted. Then he slowly looks around the tent, and back down to the cards on the table. “...Yes?” he says, because he’s more than confused. He had thought it was obvious.

“I see _love_ ,” she says. Instantly, he perks up, and his heart twists in his chest. “In all its forms. Friends, family, a boy.” She considers, twisting the bangles around her wrist. “Maybe not the boy you think. I see you falling for… a ‘stud muffin.’ Someone who will swing into your life unexpectedly. You will help him more than you will ever know, and he will see the ‘underdog’ and decide he is worth it. Maybe… Theodore, or James.” She smiles wickedly. “Maybe both at same time.”

He can't help it; he laughs. Not at her, but with her. Two boys at once? He could barely handle Iris. She laughs a little too, then crosses her arms. “Love is coming, Cyrus,” she says. “Be open to it.”

He smiles and nods, smaller and softer than he'd care to admit. After a moment, she nods to the table in front of him, the unused red card sitting there. “Go on,” she says, finally. “Ask last question.”

Suddenly, the air is thick, his laughter from just a few moments ago completely having evaporated. He knows what his third question is going to be, but…

Once, Andi told him about CeCe's divining. She would have you cast some die, and she would interpret the rolls to tell you your future. But CeCe had given Andi some sage advice: the process would only work if she was ready to hear the answer to her question.

The question is now, though: Is Cyrus ready to hear the answer?

He writes the question down anyway, and fumbles with it on his way to press it to his heart. The psychic doesn't even bother raising her hand. Instead, she raises her eyebrow, considering him. “Do you _want_ one?”

What? He blinks. That threw him completely off guard. He moves his mouth silently for a moment before he can speak, then says, “You didn't answer my question.”

“I think you answer mine first,” she says coolly.

He opens his mouth to argue, but pauses. Her question is confusing to him. Of course he wants one! Why would he have asked her if he hadn't?

But… does he really? Anymore?

Eventually, he simply stutters out, “I… I don't know.”

She nods, like she already knew this. Then she says, “So do you want to know the answer?”

Suddenly, he feels sick. His stomach flips violently, and he shakes himself. “I have to go,” he says, standing and nearly knocking over his chair and the table in the process. “Thank you so much, and I’m so sorry I came by after closing. My parents can pay--”

She waves him off. “Go,” she says. “It was my pleasure to help, Cyrus. Good luck.”

He nods and gives her a shaky smile before dashing out of the tent.

As soon as he steps outside, he can see that the party has been pretty much completely stripped bare by now. The lights are all down, the rental truck is gone, and there are no more pictures of his face anywhere. He wonders how long he was in the tent. Long enough to miss all of cleanup.

Just as he has time to catch his breath, his phone rings loudly in his pocket. He usually has his texts on silent, but calls are usually on just so that his parents can reach him. He picks up pretty much immediately, only taking a moment to stuff the card in his other pocket. “Hello?”

“Cyrus!” It's his dad; of course it is. “Your other parents and I are worried sick. Where have you been?”

“I'm just on the other side of the party,” he assures. “I promise I'll be over soon.”

Without much other word, he hangs up. He checks his phone quickly; he has a few texts, mostly from Buffy and Andi. One is from Jonah, and it's _about_ Andi. He swipes them away. But one catches his eye.

 **Unknown:** hey, great party. really cool. thanks for inviting me, even if we didn't get to hang much.

 **Unknown:** maybe we should fix that sometime.

Cyrus considers for a moment, then decides to answer.

 **Cyrus:** Thanks! Who is this?

It's barely a few moments before he gets his answer.

 **Unknown:** oh my god i'm an idiot.

 **Unknown:** it's tj. i got your number from jonah.

He smiles and laughs at that.

 **Cyrus:** Not an idiot. Maybe just forgetful. And I'm glad you liked the party!

 **TJ:** how could i not? from your face on a billboard to your sick dance moves, idk how anyone could have disliked it.

As much as he wants to answer, he needs to get back to his parents, and he is notoriously bad at texting and walking. TJ can wait five minutes… probably. So he goes to put his phone back in his pocket; it's only then that he feels the paper there.

He puts his phone in the other pocket and pulls out the paper, uncrumpling it with nimble fingers.

_Do I have a chance with Jonah Beck?_

He sighs, then throws it into the nearest trash can. He doesn't have time to think about it.

**Author's Note:**

> soooooo yeah that was a lot but. anyway thinking about making a 'getting together' sequel?? i'm still writing a lot of gmw stuff but this is my new current obsession, soooo if y'all want i could be convinced to continue.


End file.
